A Letter to Mr WiSc : Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

THE AFTERMATH OF FAILURE

“Come on man, na jus babe naaa!!! Wetin sef!? I go love o! “

This coming from his colleague and best friend and currently top most likely contender on my list of “people to assassinate’’, Raheem, who had been taunting him ever since he’d told him about his mystery lady encounter .

I shook my head helplessly at my friend, who was now wiping tears from his cheeks,

‘Laugh it up Rah, I’m not quite sure you’ve got it all out of your system, my ridicule isn’t complete yet. I’d love your infinitely wise insights into how you would have handled the situation! Please do not hold back!’

Like a moth to a flame, the invitation was music to Raheem’s ears.

“Ehen ! You get small sense! See ehn, all dis your grammar na wash! Na wetin make d babe run leave you for road. Trust me naaa, you sef know your boy!!! I for jus hold her hand, pull her close, begin dey kiss her like say my mouth na oxygen dispenser! Girls love that shit man! A daring guy with balls of Martian steel! Den na to waka dey go make she porshoo me beg for my numba “

“You know Rahim, I’ve said it before, I pity your parents all the money they wasted sending you to a private university, but then again, I sort of pity the university more! I’m forever grateful to God that you’re not a pas… ”

“I do not believe I pay you two to discuss the finer details of harassing hapless women on my time. Mr. Dayo, my office, Now.’’

From the tone of the voice that issued the order , Dayo had no doubt that his day was about to go a lot more south than the slave trade victims of old would have liked . A trip to Mr. Sonekan’s top floor office usually meant one of three things;

– One was about to get his ass handed to him on a plate

– One was about to get fired

– Or someone, usually the employee, was in for a pointlessly endless lecture on the need for harder work and more results .

The three weren’t always mutually exclusive.

To a parting look of pity on his best friend’s face, Dayo boarded the elevator that would take him to what was popularly known in the world of DepCom Global as the Cave of Mercy , named after an incident where a former employee had wailed his lungs out for the preservation of this much-needed job and received instead the helping hands of the company security to see him off the premises . His crime, calling the boss ‘Ogami’ . And it didn’t help that he was alone in the elevator with no-one for company except his ever present case of claustrophobia.

Standing in front of the office of his boss of 3 years, Dayo tried to tell himself he wasn’t scared, he wouldn’t be intimidated, he wouldn’t stammer (much ) and all would be well. Hell,he was probably about to receive a bonus for all his hard work !

Sure , and Simon Cowell is just a misunderstood man with daddy issues who never had any white T-Shirts growing up .

So fortified, he entered the Cave to the barked ‘COME IN’ that greeted his knock.

‘You wanted to see me Sir? ’ he said with all the courage he could muster.

‘No, I wanted to smell you. What sort of stupid question is that!? ’, came the retort from the head that wasn’t raised from its perusal of an open folder.

Though by now used to his boss’s attitude from hell, the sarcasm still cut and so he stood there quietly, breathing shallowly through parted lips lest the man throw him from the window for disturbing his concentration. I mean , he HAS fired someone for paying him respect . Stranger things have happened.

After about 30 seconds of his awkward Robocop stance, Dayo let his mind drift as he surveyed the room he stood in. Approximately half the size a standard classroom, it was testament to the myriad successes of the company. From the really expensive-looking artwork on the walls to the polished wooden decor stylishly spread around, it exuded a smug sense of wealth and class. To his left, a wall boasted of at least ten awards and pictures with dignitaries from all over the country. In all the time he’d worked in the building, he’d only entered this room twice and it still managed to impress him. I wonder how much he takes home yearly, probably quadruple what I make, maybe i should find out his home route and hijack him come December 15. Aaaah, that’d be the ideal solution, Jackie Chan my way through his armed escort and …..

‘Tell me about your history in advertising Mr. Dayo.’

Caught off guard by the sudden break in his dream-big reverie, Dayo scrambled to muster a suitable reply and came up with,

‘It’s inside my C.V Sah .’

‘Young man, if I needed a crash course in buffoonery, I would call my Ex-wife. Do I look like I need it?’

‘No Sah, sorry Sah ’

‘You WILL be sorry if you do not answer my question .’ he bellowed

‘Well Sah,’ I said adjusting my tie nervously

‘Sir’

‘Sah?’

‘It’s Sir’

Kai, why is this man busting my jewels like this?

‘Yes Sir , I uh , majored in Marketing and Management from the University of Yale. Took on my first internship position at a small firm in Manhattan, where I handled the junior portfolio for various up and coming entertainment acts. I returned to Nigeria in 2004 and …’

‘Enough.’

Dayo could gladly have strangled the man at this point for cutting him off in mid-stride. I don’t talk, its trouble, I talk, its trouble. Was this man Lucifer in his past life!?

‘I currently have over a thousand people in my employ. I do not particularly know you, Mr. Dayo and I do not particularly like you, especially as you spend my working hours, therefore my money, chewing the cud with another employee I do not know and already know I do not like either. I did not ask for a story. I have looked through your C.V and your monthly reports on file since you’ve been with us and quite frankly, I’ve got one small question for you?…